Process
by half-breedMiralian
Summary: <html><head></head>It was a process. It had always been. It always would be.  ZADR. Rated T, sexual references.</html>


**Process**

It was a gradual process that brought them together. Neither had anticipated it, nor had the truly wanted it at first. But in the end, they couldn't really complain, could they?

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>To defeat my enemy, I must study my enemy…"<strong>_

For too long, he had observed the Irken; it was a constant process of learning that had become almost natural over the years. Apparently, though, he wasn't the only one who had done the observing.

He caught Zim staring once. During class. False violet eyes quickly averted themselves from his form once they were spotted. Dib raised his eyebrow. This was a first.

After that, it became a game. Who could catch the other staring? Dib gave himself too little credit; he was actually very good at being discrete. His eyes were quick. He was able to look away without much movement at all, unlike Zim who, when he was caught, would jerk his head to the opposite direction.

It frustrated Zim to no end, though Dib was oblivious to this fact. He didn't know why Zim appeared to be trembling with anger every time Dib caught him in the act of looking. Eventually, he came to understand, but instead of gloating over this small victory, he felt like laughing at Zim's helplessness.

He took pity on the small alien and stared openly at him without bothering to look away. When Zim caught him, he at first sneered in triumph because he had _finally_ caught Dib. But when he noticed the amber eyes refusing to look away, his sneer disappeared and he, out of sheer confusion, stared back.

And so it proceeded to their staring matches; Dib forgot about studying the Irken with discreetness.

Their classmates noticed these open staring matches and wondered if they were in love, despite the fights they so constantly held. Then they decided they didn't care and went on ignoring the green kid and the alien-obsessed freak.

* * *

><p><em><strong>"…then become my enemy…"<strong>_

"Your moves have become predictable."

The insult stung. Dib snarled and swung about with his water gun. "Shut up, you monster! Face me!"

A spidery mechanical leg whipped across his face from the darkness and knocked him to the dirt. His head shot back up, on guard, alerted by the faint jingle of the swings' chains.

A faint chuckle, a rustle by the sandbox, the creak of the merry-go-round…the playground was just one of their many battle grounds. Dib howled in frustration as another Pak leg cut his bare arm. He tossed aside the gun and put his fists up.

"Fight me!"

A chuckle. "Zim does not wish to fight one whose moves he has already memorized. As I said, you are too predictable, Dib-stink." There was a sigh that was filled with slight disappointment. "It is not exciting for me."

Dib faltered in his anger for a moment, guard dropping. "Well, _sor-ry_ for not being able to come up with new moves. You were encoded with the knowledge of how to fight! Me? All of this is improvisation. I can't fight! Never been taught! So shut up and fight me!"

Zim's face suddenly appeared from the dark, his black boots touching down and his Pak legs retracting. There was an inexplicable silence between them for a while, an unreadable expression on the Irken's face. Then he murmured, "Shall I teach you how?"

Dib blinked. "How to what?"

"How to fight." The alien looked flustered for a nanosecond before a maniacal grin that looked rather forced appeared on his face. "Make no mistake! Zim will teach you, if only to make his life more interesting. Conquering this filthy dirt ball would be no fun without your pathetic attempts to foil my brilliant plans." This was said almost shyly, and Dib had to do a double take; did he see a faint purple tainting Zim's cheeks?

No, it must have been a trick of the dim moonlight.

This offer must have been a trick too. Why would the alien want to teach his enemy? For amusement? What kind of pathetic excuse was that? Then again…

A shrug of his shoulders voiced his reluctant consent. "I guess. You'll teach me how to fight like you?"

A hesitant nod; Zim was also appearing unsure of his own offer, but there was no turning back now, he supposed.

Dib kicked his water gun out of the way and spread his hands. "Okay. But I'm warning you, no funny business."

Zim grinned, zipper-like teeth flashing under the moonlight. "You have my word on that, worm-baby. But only for now."

* * *

><p><em><strong>"…then move in with my enemy…"<strong>_

He had been kicked out. His father couldn't tolerate his "ridiculous studies of the so-called paranormal" any longer. There was no room in that house anymore for an insane child.

He was literally living on the streets. He was still going to school and everyone was none the wiser. Gaz surprised him in this situation; she would visit, bring food, blankets, clothes. Of course, all of this was done under the visage of an annoyed glare and phrases of "I don't even know why I do this" and "I'm wasting my time here when I could be playing the GameSlave 3".

But Dib appreciated it. And Gaz knew it.

"You need to find a place to stay."

This was said to him a week and a half later, and he looked up from the hot soup he was slurping down. "Obviously. But I've got no money."

"Ever heard of a job? Either get one or find someone to stay with."

"I've got no friends?" Dib mumbled around a piece of warm bread.

Gaz glared. "Did I _say_ anything about friends?" She crossed her arms. "There's always _him_."

Dib stared at her like she had grown three heads (though he wouldn't have been too surprised about that, with all the crazy stuff he had seen in his life). "You're joking, right?"

His little sister snorted and stalked away. "You know I never joke."

* * *

><p>It had not been pretty.<p>

Dib had turned up at Zim's base with the grumbled request of a place to stay, "just for a few weeks"; the Invader had abruptly refused, which flared Dib's temper, which led to harsh words, which started a fight. After what seemed like hours of screaming at each other and kicking and punching and clawing—Zim had trained Dib a little _too_ well, as the human was now almost the Irken's equal in combat—the alien managed to shout a frustrated question.

"Why?"

They both halted their fights, poised for attack, panting. Dib's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "I got kicked out of the house because of you."

"Me?" Zim squawked indignantly. "Zim did nothing!"

"You've done everything!" Dib hissed. "Dad's fed up with my talk of the paranormal; he thinks I'm mental for insisting you're an alien when it's _true_! And he doesn't believe me, and he doesn't want to deal with it. He gave me a choice: either I stop fighting you, stop trying to protect the world, save mankind, putting you _first_ in my life…" He lowered his hands and muttered dryly, "I guess you can see I went for the other option."

The silence stretched. Dib avoided Zim's eyes. Finally, the alien said quietly, "Go."

Dib swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodded bitterly, and turned away.

"Don't forget anything when you retrieve your things from your parental unit's house."

Amber orbs widened and looked back. "What?"

The little green Invader scowled. "Must I repeat myself? Bring your possessions here. Don't forget anything." He turned and went back inside. "I'll have Gir set up a spare room for you."

It took Dib five minutes of staring at a turquoise men's door before he finally realized that his request had been accepted. He sprinted to get his things.

* * *

><p>They both swore to keep out of each other's way. It was like a golden age between them: Zim wouldn't try to destroy the world for the duration of Dib's stay (though he made no promise to stop formulating plans to put to use later), and Dib wouldn't try to expose him or mess with his lab (though he made no promise to stop accumulating information while he was there to use at another time).<p>

Adjusting to life with each other wasn't easy. Dib had a schedule. He'd wake up at seven to get ready for school; he'd go to bed somewhere around eleven to twelve. But Zim was almost always up; Dib wasn't certain he'd ever seen the alien sleep.

Regarding meals, Zim now found himself having to actually shop for human food. The refrigerator, which he used to keep many of his smaller experiments, was now growing crowded with bread, milk, juice, fruits, vegetables, _meat_… Zim almost drew a line at this as he bitterly recalled the bologna incident, but somehow Dib managed to talk him out of throwing the meat into the incinerator. Consequently though, Zim built a small containment unit for the refrigerator for the meat itself.

Dib's room was connected to Zim's. He almost complained about this at first, but when Zim nearly bit his head off about them still being enemies and him needing to keep an eye on Dib, the human backed down.

One night, Dib was shocked as Zim stumbled into his room in the middle of the night. He hadn't seen the Irken for three days. He knew Zim had been working on an experiment down in the lab, and this was the first time he had emerged.

"Zim?" Dib growled as the alien took a few steps towards the bed. He could just barely see the pink-ruby eyes narrowed in the darkness. He backed up until he hit the headboard. "Zim?" Was the Irken finally going to break the temporary truce? Was his time up?

Zim fell forward on the bed and curled up in the sheets, murmuring something about Gir and piggies and lasers. Dib cautiously leaned forward and squinted. Zim was breathing softly, eyes shut. Dib almost chuckled; so Irkens _did_ sleep. With an exasperated sigh—_Really? You couldn't have wandered into your own room?—_Dib pulled the sheets over the foreign body and snuggled down into his pillow.

"Night, Zim."

* * *

><p>He awoke to warm breath on the back of his neck and lithe arms wrapped around his torso. He had almost expected this; well, he had theorized what he would do if it were to happen, but he hadn't actually thought Zim would unconsciously search for a heat source like people did in the movies. <em>He'll probably flip out when he wakes up<em>, Dib thought, rubbing his eyes and looking up.

Bright pink eyes stared curiously back.

Dib gave a strangled yelp and tried to pull away, but the Irken's arms tightened. Dib tried to splutter a coherent sentence, but Zim spoke first. "Why didn't you kick me out?"

Dib stopped moving and cleared his throat. "C'mon, Zim. You let me into your base. You let me stay here. I guess it's the least I can do."

Zim blinked before smirking. "Clever answer, Dib-monster. It'll do for now."

The human chuckled nervously, then froze up as the alien leaned forward and brushed their lips together. Zim laughed breathily against his neck and then slid out of bed. "Your eyes look nice, Dib-stink."

Dib didn't move for an hour.

That was the spark. After that, something hung in the air that didn't intend to go away any time soon. It was the little things Zim now did that made Dib do a double-take and wonder why. Just _why_. A small peck on the cheek, a brush of hands, even a quick grab at Dib's butt.

They day when Dib finally responded to his advances was when he cornered Zim and dragged his tongue down the Irken's slender neck, eliciting a moan and a command: "_More_."

Gir sang down the hallway, "First comes love, then comes…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>"…then wear my enemy's clothes…"<strong>_

It was bound to happen sooner or later. They ended up having sex after what seemed like an aggravating week of teasing and tormenting. They didn't know how it happened, or why. All that mattered was that it _happened._

The day after, Zim opened up the morning paper and skimmed the articles, wondering if there were any significant events of mayhem he could be present at.

The sound of the garbage elevator coming up made him turn ruby eyes towards it. A sleepy-looking human, void of his glasses, stumbled out, rubbing his eyes. Zim stared; the Dib was dressed in one of _his_ Invader uniforms, one of the largest sizes he had. The material slipped off of one slender shoulder, revealing slight, defined muscles under pale, milky skin.

The Irken smirked. Well, the skin wasn't all pale. Small, dark bruises dotted it in some places, a clear description of what had occurred last night. Zim reached out a clawed hand and tugged the pink material when Dib came closer. "Sleep well, Dib-filth?" he purred, eyelids drooping, feeling his squeedly-spooch grow warm when the human leaned wearily against him.

Dib cast him a reproachful glance and groaned. "Oh, _God_. What have I done?"

Zim's smile disappeared and a scowl took its place. He stood and moved away from the warm body. "In case you can't recall," he hissed scathingly, "you came quite willingly to Zim's bed." Dib's mouth opened, but the alien continued. "You did not protest. In fact, you begged for more. You wanted my tongue in your—"

"Oh, stop!" Dib yelped, sleepiness gone. "Don't go further."

Zim's lekku flattened on his smooth head and he averted his eyes. "If you regret it, then get out."

Dib blanched. "Geez, Zim! I never said anything about regretting it. You think I meant—? No! You gave me a look, and you mentioned the tongue and—! It was just a little embarrassing! What, you think I'm the kind of guy who does one-night stands?"

"You could just be lying so you don't have to leave," Zim growled. "Don't bother. The almighty Zim was growing tired of your presence here anyway."

Dib flinched like he had been struck. With a deep breath, he took a hesitant step forward. The Irken backed away. The human huffed. "Zim," he said, voice filled with resolve. "You _know_ me. You know I'm not like that." He took another step. This time, the alien did not move. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't have a place to go anyway. I can't go back home. It's not even home anymore."

"Then find a new one!" Zim snapped.

He looked distressed, but he managed to murmur quietly, "I…I think I have." Antennae raised slightly and Zim finally met Dib's gaze, but Dib looked away sheepishly. "Look, don't make me go all girly or anything. I just think that I'm…supposed to be here." He held out a hand. "Please, Zim?"

The Irken stared at the human for a long time.

A thousand thoughts were racing through his brilliant mind, weighing the odds and facts, comparing and contrasting himself against the earthling.

A thousand thoughts raced, and they came up with a million things that could go wrong with him pursuing a…relationship.

A million things could go wrong, but…at least _one_ thing would go right.

And at that moment, that one thing was enough to make him take Dib's hand.

* * *

><p>It was a process. That was all there was to it. Of course, they still had a few things to work out, like what Zim would do about his mission, and what Dib would do to stop his evil plans. He had given up on trying to expose him; he certainly couldn't have someone coming in and carting <em>his<em> alien off to some secret lab. No, that just wouldn't do.

Zim continued to plot and initiate his schemes, and Dib would always be there to stop him. They didn't let their relationship interfere with their duties. Of course, when they returned home tired and bruised, the make-up sex always seemed worth it. _If_ Gir didn't happen to barge into the room and ruin _everything_ as he so often did.

Not that they would admit it. Nor would they admit that they enjoyed the other's company.

But then, perhaps they would later swallow their pride and voice their thoughts to each other. It would just be another process.


End file.
